Is This Real Life?
by Scoobert0
Summary: What starts out as a simple Wendigo hunt ends with Dean in a coma.  When he wakes up will he be able to distinguish what's real and what's imagined?  Teen!chesters, plenty of hurt!Dean.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Honestly, I don't know what my brain is doing. I wanted to write fluff like nobody's business this week, but that has yet to happen. So this story is brought to you by a messed up, crazy dream I had last night. Sam is 13 and Dean is 17 in this. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing and it's depressing sometimes.**

**Warning: Un-beta'd, all mistakes are my own and I apologize in advance.**

They were hunting a Wendigo. Pretty simple, pretty routine and it was going fine. That was until Sam's boot got caught in a foothold trap.

"How the hell did this thing even close? It's completely rusted!" John muttered as he tried to pry the trap off again.

"At least it's not a bear trap and it didn't go through my boot." Sam pointed out, "Why can't Dean just help me back to the Impala while you finish off the Wendigo?"

The teen in question was standing about ten feet away, flare gun in hand, as he stood guard over his family. He shot a quick glance to his brother and stuck his tongue out at him before retuning his attention to the dark woods around them.

"Cause if you walk on or jostle this thing too much it could close even further and we don't want that. You haven't had a tetanus vaccine lately, so I don't want to risk infection by letting this thing break the skin. Dean!" John called his eldest over, "I want you to watch over your brother and keep an eye out. The Impala isn't too far away; I'm going to go get a crowbar out of the trunk to pry this thing off. If the Wendigo shows up, yell. Got it?"

"Yes sir." Dean responded. John nodded his approval and left, moving as quickly as he could without spraining something.

"You know, I really hate woods." Dean finally said after several minutes.

"And why's that?" Sam asked, picking up a twig and breaking it apart.

"Well, for starters, there are frickin' ticks everywhere. Those things are nasty. Secondly, nothing good ever happens when we're out here. Someone usually ends up getting hurt. Or lost. Or hurt and lost. Dad ends up getting pissed and won't take us on any hunts for months. Oh, and did I mention ticks?" The older boy ranted as he paced in a wide circle around Sam. The younger boy just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Who'd have thought _the_ Dean Winchester was afraid of a little bug." He teased, earning a glare. Dean turned full towards him and opened his mouth to respond when the sound of a branch breaking made him spin back around.

The Wendigo was standing about twenty feet away and looking directly at them. Dean cursed himself for letting it sneak up that close on them. He automatically stepped between it and Sam. Before he could even open his mouth to yell for his father, the thing was suddenly right in front of him. :_Damn this one is fast._: He thought before it sent him flying.

"DAD!" Sam yelled as loud as he could as he fumbled for his flare gun. The Wendigo slowly approached him. He found it and was about to fire when something knocked the monster down. Dean scrambled away from it before it could claw him. He crouched in front of Sam, covered in dirt and twigs. Sam noticed how he was favoring his left leg and that there was blood dripping from his cheek.

"You ok Sammy?" Of course Dean would disregard his own injuries in favor of making sure Sam was alright.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Move so I can shoot this bastard." He told his brother, raising the gun again. Dean jerked to the side and Sam fired. The Wendigo shrieked as it went up in flames and crumpled to the forest floor. Getting to his feet shakily, Dean limped over to his brother.

"Nice shot." He told him as he cradled his chest with an arm. Sam shrugged before frowning up at his big brother.

"You ok?"

"I'll be fine. Where's dad?"

"If that isn't the million dollar question. I yelled for him, you'd think he'd be here by now."Sam bitched.

"Huh, I don't know. DAD!" Dean tried and waited for a response, there was only silence. He looked down worriedly at Sam, something must be wrong if their dad wasn't responding. He was about to say something about it when he saw Sam's eyes go wide with fear. Before he could turn around, something grabbed the back of his shirts, claws ripping through the fabric and scraping his skin. A quick motion sent him flying back into a tree where a loud crack was audible as the back of his head connected with it. He slumped down to the ground in an unmoving pile of limbs, unconscious.

Sam instinctively yelled as the second Wendigo threw his brother into a tree. The creature turned its attention on him. It started creeping towards him and he tried to scoot away.

"Dad!" He screamed, knowing it was probably futile. The Wendigo in front of him suddenly burst into flames just before John Winchester came sprinting into view, smoking flare gun in hand. He rushed up to Sam and gave him a once over. Satisfied he wasn't hurt, he went to work on trying off the trap.

"Where's your brother? Don't tell me he went off after it when I told him to stay with you." He growled as he worked.

"There were two of them dad. We got the first one after it threw Dean." Sam replied, angry that his dad would think such a thing about his brother, "He tackled it before it could get to me and I managed to shoot it. The second one just appeared out of nowhere behind him and threw him into that tree over there. I haven't seen him move since, so go check on him! I'll get this thing off on my own."

John hesitated before nodding and rushing over to his first born. His heart clenched when he saw Dean in a heap at the base of the tree. He couldn't see the boy's chest moving and he shakily felt for a pulse. Letting out a shaky sigh when he felt one, although it was erratic, he moved his hand in front of his mouth and felt faint breathes escaping Dean's parted lips. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he set to checking Dean over for injuries. As his hand ghosted over his left knee, he could feel the heat and swelling that accompanied a sprained joint. He removed his plaid button up and wrapped Dean's knee tightly. His concern rose when there was absolutely no reaction from the teen. Normally, even unconscious, there would be a small twitch in the boy's face when he was in pain.

Skipping over the rest of his body for now, John lifted one of Dean's eye lids and shined the small flashlight he had in his eye. The pupil was blown, leaving only a sliver of green along the edge.

"Shit." John muttered, letting the eye close and feeling for a head injury now.

"What's wrong dad?" Sam asked softly as he approached, the trap finally off of his foot. John's hand froze when he touched something wet and sticky on the back of Dean's head. Pulling his hand back he saw it was covered in blood.

"We need to get to a hospital. Now!" John ordered, scooping Dean into his arms and rushing towards the Impala with Sam right behind him. Normally they would avoid hospitals like the plague, but when it came to head injuries on this level, there was no messing around.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Round two! My brain is still forsaking fluff so here's another dose of hurt Dean. (Why yes, I am subconsciously abusing him for what he's going to do to Cas in the next episode) Kinda a transition chapter in my opinion before we get into the heart of things. There's some medical talk, and even though my sister-in-law is a doctor and I have some veterinary training, I really don't know what I'm talking about. Italics are flashbacks, in case anyone was wondering. Enjoy!**

John walked back towards Dean's room at the hospital, coffee in hand. Reaching the room he paused, leaning against the doorframe as he watched his two sons. Sam was sitting in a chair next to the bed with his eyes closed and head laying on the edge of the bed next to Dean's hand. The sight of the older boy broke John's heart every time he walked into the room. Dean was hooked up to IV's and several monitors, with wires crisscrossing his body. I had been five weeks since they had hunted the Wendigo and Dean still hadn't woken up. Sam had been enrolled in the local school so that he would have something to keep him occupied. Whenever he wasn't in school or sleeping at the motel room they had gotten, he was glued to Dean's side; much like John. The doctors couldn't explain it. The seventeen year old was healing perfectly from his other injuries, yet showed no signs of waking. Specialists had been called in, but they all declared that there was nothing they could do but wait. The oldest Winchester shivered involuntarily as he remembered what had all happened after they brought Dean in.

_They had rushed into the ER and Dean had been taken to be worked on almost immediately. John burned a hole into the ground as he paced along the waiting area. Sam sat staring at the floor, lost in thought. Every so often, John would glance at his youngest and wonder what the boy was thinking before returning to his own thoughts._

_Several hours later found Sam's head resting on his dad's thigh as he dozed. John idly ran his fingers through his hair. A nurse finally approached them._

"_Family of Dean Collins? Follow me please."_

_John nodded and shook Sam awake. They followed the nurse to a private room._

"_The doctor will be out momentarily to fill you in on your son's condition." She told the Winchesters before turning and walking away. A minute later the door to the room opened and a short, portly man in a white coat came out. Closing the door behind him, he turned to face John and Sam._

"_Dean Conllins' family I take it?" He asked in a low voice. John nodded, 'I'm Dr. Phillips, I'll be Dean's physician while he's here."_

"_How is he? Is he going to be ok?" John asked hurriedly._

"_Dean has a severely sprained knee, two cracked ribs, heavy bruising on his back as well as a few minor cuts there. There was also a cut on his cheek that needed stitches as well as the three inch laceration on the back of his head. He should make a full recovery from all those injuries, no problem. But none of that is what has us concerned."_

"_What's that supposed to mean?" Sam asked incredulously._

"_Dean still hasn't woken up. We've preformed a CT and MRI scan, both of which are showing that he has severe cerebral swelling. If it doesn't go down or he doesn't wake up by tomorrow, we'll have to operate to relieve the pressure."_

_John swallowed thickly, "Can we see him now?"_

"_Yes. I'm going to warn you, we have him hooked up to several machines to monitor his vitals and brain activity. Thankfully he's able to breathe on his own, but we have an oxygen mask on him to make it easier to breathe with the cracked ribs." Dr. Phillips told them as he opened the door and stepped back to let them in. Sam had rushed forward to Dean's side, eyes moist with tears. John stood back, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth._

"_If he shows any signs of regaining consciousness, use the call button." The doctor informed him. John nodded and watched him close the door as he left the family._

_The next morning Dean hadn't woken at all and was taken for more scans, which revealed that the swelling in his brain hadn't gone down. Dr. Phillips briefed the Winchesters on the surgery that would be preformed; They would be removing part of Dean's skull to allow the pressure on his brain to be released. The surgery was a success and a week later the swelling was all but nonexistent so they were able to perform a crainioplasty to repair the skull. Even after all that, Dean still hadn't woken up. He was still breathing on his own; the doctors assured John that it was a good thing because it ruled out the possibility of Dean slipping into a vegetative state and that he would wake up. It was only a matter of when._

"Morning John." Dr. Phillips greeted the hunter as he walked up to stand next to him, bringing him out of his memories. John grunted in return, taking a sip of his coffee. The two had formed a strange kind of friendship over the weeks. The doctor tended to be blunt and to the point when he discussed options for Dean, and John appreciated that. The doctor entered the room and started reading the nurses' notes while checking the boy's vitals. He paused when he read the data from the machine recording Dean's brain activity. A pleased smile was on his face when he turned back to John.

"Well, I'm going to do a couple scans today to make sure, but I think it's safe to say that Dean will finally be conscious in the next couple of days. There were several spikes in brain activity, for prolonged periods of time, last night. This is a very good sign."

John stared blankly at the doctor before his minds caught up with the words. His son was going to wake up. Quickly, he found a chair and sunk into it.

"Oh thank God." He muttered shakily, scrubbing his hands over his face. Dr. Phillips rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it briefly before leaving to finish his rounds and schedule Dean's scans.

Sam stirred and sat up, rubbing his eyes. Looking around the room he saw his father sitting with his face in his hands. Worry flashed through his mind and he got up and walked over. :_Please don't let Dean be any worse_.: He thought to himself.

"Dad?" He asked concerned. John lowered his hands and smiled up at his youngest.

"Dean's gonna wake up finally, Sammy."

Relief flooded Sam's body and he found himself throwing his arms around his father, who squeezed him back.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Back again, finally! This is going to be my next story to finish now that I'm done with Problem with Pets, so updates should be quicker again. So here we go, enjoy!**

It took Dean four days to wake up. And while everyone was expecting him to, no one expected the manner in which he did.

Things started off normal. He cracked his eyes open at first, squinting around the room and trying to focus. John and Sam were sitting nearby playing cards. When they heard a soft moan from the bed, they quickly got up and rushed over. Dean's eyes focused on them after a moment and a half smile crept up on his face.

"You're awake!" Sam cried happily, tears of joy were leaking from his eyes as he bounced beside the bed. John smiled down at his eldest, not saying anything as he worked to keep his own tears at bay. Dean opened his mouth to speak but the only thing that came out was a soft croak. Quickly, John went and filled a cup with water for him.

"Small sips." He told the boy as he held the cup to his lips for him to drink. Following the order, Dean slowly swollowed the refreshing liquid. When the glass was empty, john set it down and reached over to ruffle the teen's longer than normal hair.

"So you enjoy your nap? Had us really worried there buddy."

Dean looked at him in confusion briefly before looking around the room and realizing he was in a hospital. Wetting his dry lips, he cleared his throat before speaking, "Wha' H'p'n'd?"

"There were two Wedigoes, remember?" Sam told him before John could say anything, "You went a round with both of them, protecting me while I was stuck."

Dean squinted in concentration for a minute before nodding his head, putting what he could remember about that night back together in his head.

"How L'ng?" He asked, his voice stronger than it had been the last time he spoke.

"It's been almost six weeks. You hit your head pretty good and have been in a coma since then." John informed him. Dean's eyes got wide as his jaw dropped. He was out for that long? Snapping his jaw shut, he leaned back into his pillows to process what he'd just been told.

Sam and John took a step back, allowing Dean some personal space to think in. Walking to the wall, Sam pushed the call button to let the nurses know what Dean had woken up. They all sat quietly, waiting for a nurse or Dr. Phillips to come in.

John glanced up when Dean's heart monitor started speeding up for no discernable reason. With a look of concern, he also noted that his son's chest was starting to heave as he began to hyperventilate.

"Dean?" He managed to ask before his eldest sat straight up and started screaming. The blond's eyes were locked on the far corner of the room as he tried to scramble off the bed. Moving quickly the eldest Winchester grabbed his son, holding him on the bed so that he didn't pull his IV out and hurt himself.

The door burst open as Dr. Phillips and several nurses came rushing in.

"What happened?" The doctor asked as he moved forward towards the still screaming boy.

"He woke up and was fine till a minute ago when he sat up and started screaming bloody murder." John told him as he tried to calm Dean down and stop him from hurting himself.

After failing to calm him down after five minutes, Dr. Phillips reluctantly sedated him. Once he was in the middle of the bed with all the wires reconnected and his IV reset, he sighed and beckoned John to follow him out of the room.

Once the door was shut, Sam moved forward from the corner he'd been pushed into so that he wasn't in the way. He looked over to the corner Dean had been terrorized of, but there was nothing there to see from across the room. Walking over, he looked for physical signs of something being there but found nothing. Coming up to the bedside, he grabbed his brother's once again limp hand and squeezed it.

"It's ok Dean, there's nothing here. Dad n' me are here, nothing can get you." He whispered, wondering what his brother had seen that freaked him out like that. Sam had never seen him react like that to anything they've ever faced before. The hand in his squeezed back briefly before going limp again. Sam looked down at Dean's not so peaceful face and smiled sadly.

John reentered the room twenty minutes later and smiled softly at the scene that greeted him. Sam had crawled into the bed with his big brother and was curled around him.

"You awake Sam?" He asked softly. The young boy nodded, looking up at his father.

"They have any idea what happened?" He asked, sitting up and stretching.

"No. Doc is hoping had something to do with stress."

"What do you mean 'hoping'?" The young teen growled in question. John sighed and scrubbed at his face.

"There's a possibility that his reaction was caused by brain damage. The brain functions differently when awake than when unconscious. They're going to do some more scans the next time he's up so they can see if everything is functioning or not."

They were quiet for awhile as they watched Dean breathe.

"I think he saw something. Like a ghost or a Reaper maybe. He wouldn't have acted like that for no reason." Sam finally said, deciding to disregard the idea that his big brother might not all be there anymore.

"Well, it's possible. We are in a hospital." John admitted, pulling up a chair and sitting down.

"Plus he hates hospitals." Sam continued, "Maybe he'll be fine if we get him out of here."

"I'll talk to Doc about it, see if he thinks that's a good idea or not yet."

"What, we're not going to sneak out like normal?"

"Heh, no. Not when John Collins has some pretty good insurance to cover it." John smirked as he spoke, "Doc said Dean'll be out for a couple hours, you and I might as well head back to the motel and get cleaned up. We'll get some grub too while we're out."

"Yeah." Sam agreed reluctantly, sliding off the bed and following his dad out the door. He glanced back at Dean one more time before jogging to catch up with their father.

"I'll be ok. He'll be ok." John said under his breath. Sam wasn't sure if his dad was saying it to assure him or to comfort himself.


End file.
